


prix fixe

by Odyle



Category: Hannibal (TV), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Trope Bingo Round 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 09:02:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odyle/pseuds/Odyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He might have even been a good date if he hadn’t been transfixed by the tale of murder and mayhem on CNN... or if he’d been able to meet her eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	prix fixe

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Damalur, who is the best. 
> 
> This is a bit of unrepentant crossover AU brought to you by the fact that Will Graham is married to a woman named Molly during the events of _Red Dragon_. I'm not particularly fond of that Molly, so I substituted another.

The TV behind the bar was set to CNN. The sound was off, but the captions told the story of the hunt for a serial killer in Tidewater Virginia. Clips of people in FBI jackets hustling into and out of houses and standing around in groups in the streets looped over and over. They had found three bodies so far, though undisclosed official sources expected for at least two or three more to be found. 

Her date focused on the news clips, every now and then taking an absent-minded bite of his Rueben. They had spoken for a half hour or so upon first entering the grill. He asked her how she liked Florida and she gave it a mildly warm appraisal. The weather was better than London, though the people were stranger, if that was at all possible. These days her work life was a parade of gunshot victims and old people who’d passed away at home without witnesses. He was a recent transplant to the area as well; he’d lived here for a time in his childhood, but he had only returned a year before. They chatted politely until their food was served, and then the news segment about the murders began and he’d seemingly lost all interest in her. 

It was going well for a date and even better considering that it was a blind date. He hadn’t excused himself to run off or handed her the card for a plastic surgeon he played golf with. Will Graham didn’t look much the type to play golf anyhow. He had a dark tan and his fingernails were cut off at the quick, signs of a working man. According to the friend who’d set her up with him, he worked at a boat yard fixing engines, but she shouldn’t be afraid to talk to him; he’d been to college. He’d been someone very important before he washed up in Florida. 

Will was nice enough. He might have even been a good date if he hadn’t been transfixed by the tale of murder and mayhem on CNN... or if he’d been able to meet her eyes. Cherisse, the receptionist at the M.E.’s office who’d arranged the date, had warned her about it beforehand. Molly assured her that as long as this Will Graham was not a murderer, it would be fine. 

She dressed up in her nicest sundress and her only pair of heels. Molly had even done her make-up nicely, though that had been in hopes that she could distract from the terrible sunburn she’d gotten earlier in the week. Will seemed not to notice, though he hadn’t spent much time looking at her face, so far as she could tell. The bar and grill he’d picked to meet at was decent. It was a local place that she’d never had the nerve to set foot inside on her own, though she passed it most days on her drive to work. 

“You’re interested in law enforcement?” Molly asked as CNN moved on to their next subject, some scandal somewhere. 

“Some aspects of it interest me.” 

“Anything in particular?” 

“Profiling, mostly. I… have some experience in the area.”

Molly had been hunting for a more solid topic of conversation. Light and fluffy subjects such as the weather did well enough for a time, but you could only talk about the thunderstorm the night before for so long. Cherisse had mentioned in passing that Will Graham had been some sort of cop at some point in time. When pressed, she hadn’t had much detail to give, and Molly had half forgotten it in among the myriad of other things the receptionist had told her about Will. 

“I used to kind of... _be_ in law enforcement.” 

“ _Kind of_?” Molly asked. 

Will Graham shook his head as he set down his sandwich. He offered her the pickle from his plate, which she politely declined. 

“I used to work for the FBI,” he said. “I taught at the Academy for a few years.” 

“That’s quite a change.” 

“It was a necessary move. Besides, boat motors are much less stressful.” 

Molly nodded in agreement, though she couldn’t quite see how teaching could be so stressful as that. More importantly, she’d found a vein of conversation she could hope to mine. 

“I used to help solve murders--I mean, I still do. But more directly. I had a friend who was a detective, but not like a real detective.”

Her date shot a quick look at her. Molly flushed. 

“It sounds strange when I try to explain it. He was always called in for strange cases. Him and this doctor, John, who was sort of his assistant. I helped them with their cases quite frequently.” 

“And what made you leave London?”

How did you tell a date that you tell a date that you didn’t feel useful anymore? That your family was dead, even your cat, and you had no close friends? What kind of man wanted to date a woman predestined to become a cat lady? 

Many people had asked her the same question since she arrived in the Keys. She’d given them different lies--she was tired of the weather in London, she’d always wanted to live in Florida, she had a passion for skin diving. These lies satisfied them, and they went away content. However, lying to Will Graham did not feel right. 

“I didn’t feel like there was anything there for me anymore,” Molly said. It was close enough to the truth without being too much of it. 

She turned back to her plate to pick through her chips. Most of them were slightly undercooked and finding good ones took some hunting. It helped to distract her from the awkward silence that followed her admission. She considered, for the first time, that maybe she was the one that made all of her dates awkward. 

“I’m sorry if you find me rude,” Will said. He reached up to adjust his glasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose, then pulling them down again a moment later. “I don’t mean to be.” 

“I don’t mind rude. I’m used to it. If we’re being rude, can I ask you a question?” 

He nodded. 

“Are you gay?” 

“No... has that happened to you before?” 

“Once,” Molly said. Her face flushed, feeling uncomfortably hot in the poorly air conditioned bar. She’d made a fool of herself and there was no going back. 

“I’m not gay,” Will said. He didn’t sound particularly offended, but rather curious. 

“I just don’t go on many dates... mostly because the men I’ve seen in past--there was something wrong with each of them. You seem like a nice man. I don’t go on many dates with nice, normal men.”

Molly flagged down the bartender and ordered another drink. If her date was going to leave, it would be nice to have the solace of a fresh daiquiri. Hers had melted in the heat, leaving a sort of rummy syrup that was almost too sweet to drink. Drinking gave her something to do other than look at his reaction. 

“I’m not normal,” he said. “I’ve always wanted to be, but I’m not.”

Molly understood what it was to be not quite normal. She’d been teased at school for being a little awkward. Nothing terrible, just the occasional jab when no other more fruitful targets presented themselves to bullies. Her whole adult life had followed suit. She was successful. She was a doctor who enjoyed her career and was well respected by her colleagues, yet she’d never hit the mark for normal. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have agreed to this,” he said. 

The CNN segment that had captured his attention before started to repeat on the TV behind the bar. Will seemed not to notice. His attention was on her now, even if he wouldn’t meet her eyes. 

“Is it me?” Molly asked. “It’s alright. You can tell me if it is.”

Will screwed up his face, then took off his glasses and set them on the bar. He brushed a palm over his face in an anxious gesture. She wanted to reach out to him and put a hand on his shoulder or rub his back to comfort him. Molly couldn’t come up with the nerve to make a move, so she sat there with both hands wrapped around the daiquiri glass. 

“It’s not you. I went through some things last year. Things that resulted in me quitting the FBI and moving down here. I was in the hospital for a while--for a lot of different things. I’m better, but I’m not better enough to be a good date. Let’s just get some pie and call it a night.” 

If it was an excuse to get rid of her, at least he’d been creative. She could go back to Cherisse with a story about how Will Graham was crazy. It would keep her from asking Molly if she’d seen Will again and from setting Will up. 

“If it makes you feel better, this is the best date I’ve been on in quite some time,” Molly said. “I’d actually like to see you again if you’re interested, once you feel better.” 

“I’d like that,” Will said. “But I don’t know if I’ll ever be better.”


End file.
